


Misconstruction

by dracoqueen22



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Awkward Romance, Character Study, Gen, Implied Violence, Social Awkwardness, awkward dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:37:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1825174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skyfire watches. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe do not approve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuzipenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/gifts).



> I was given the prompt "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" with these characters and I fully intended to write either fluffy-smutty-comedic pronz or serious pronz. I ended up with neither and I'm still not sure what to call it, but I"m fond of it.

Skyfire didn't like the twins at first. They were loud. Brash. Boastful. And they looked on him with open disdain. Not because he had joined the Deceptions, but because he was big and strong but hopeless in war. For two mechs like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, a Cybertronian's worth was measured by his ability on the battlefield.   
  
In other words, the distaste was mutual. Skyfire was content to put as much distance between himself and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe as possible. It worked out for the best as Sunstreaker always seemed a hair trigger away from violence and Sideswipe could be cruel behind that friendly smile.   
  
If he had to pinpoint a moment when his opinion changed, Skyfire probably thinks it was when he was helping out Ratchet in the medbay and bore uncomfortable witness to the sight of Sunstreaker stricken with worry and two shades from offlining. That the twins are frequent visitors to Ratchet's domain is no secret. Sideswipe usually because of some hare-brained scheme and Sunstreaker because of something Sideswipe involved him in or some made up issues with his paint job. Seriously, the golden frontliner could be worse about imagined ills than Gears.   
  
Not that Skyfire would ever claim such a thing aloud. He isn't suicidal.   
  
Skyfire, by virtue of his training in field medicine, found himself press-ganged into assisting the understaffed medical team after yet another clash with the Decepticons. A never-ending clash, he had remarked to himself bitterly. Imagine fighting a war for so long, a war that never ends and seems to have no purpose.   
  
They aren’t fighting over anything! Not land or wealth or freedom! They're just fighting to be fighting. And Skyfire has learned of the impossibility of neutrality, that he has to pick a side, and he chose the Autobots because at least then he is working to protect the innocent organics, even if the Autobots are no less to blame for the war than the Decepticons.   
  
That, however, is a tangent. Back to the medbay.   
  
Relationships are rare amongst the Autobots. There are a few close friendships, a few steady partners, but true pairings? True romance? It's so rare as to be nonexistent. Skyfire has heard rumors, but he's still new enough he's not willing to stir the Insecticon nest yet.   
  
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are not so much a relationship as they are two halves of the same spark. Whether they choose to be or not, they will always be connected. They will always matter to each other. Will one perish if the other extinguishes? Skyfire doesn't know. He doesn't have much experience with spark-split twins and for all he knows, that's just a sparkling's story. But it's very clear that story or not, one might not survive without the other.   
  
It's a dangerous thing, Skyfire remembers thinking as he watches Sunstreaker hover at Sideswipe's medberth side, looking ashen and weak. It's dangerous to care for another mech in times of war. It's dangerous and scary and foolish and yet, here these two are, together against all odds, throwing themselves into the thick of battle despite knowing the threat of death that awaits them.   
  
And he knows that this is hardly the first time one twin has sat beside another, waiting for Ratchet to perform another miracle. That he always does is one of the reasons their faith in him is so strong. But Skyfire takes one look and knows that deep beneath, in the depths of their spark, there's a ripple of concern that this is when their luck runs out.   
  
It makes him think, makes him wonder.   
  
It doesn't instantly make him seek out their friendship. Skyfire still finds it safer to keep a distance between himself and the twins, but now, there is fascination. He watches them, from across the rec room and as subtly as possible. He finds himself seeking the skies for their reckless ways in the midst of battle. He reads about their exploits in the Ark's records, which is also partly an attempt to educate himself on the ongoing clash between Autobot and Decepticon.   
  
He doesn't understand Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Then again, he doesn't understand most residents of the Ark and definitely every resident of the Nemesis. But the twins are of specific confusion because of all the Autobots, they are some of the few that are classically trained for battle.   
  
It's a well-known fact. The Decepticons are comprised mainly of former soldiers, gladiators, mercenaries and warriors-trained. There are a few exceptions to the rule but the majority are born and bred into violence and know how to mete it out.   
  
The Autobots, by contrast, are a motley collection of data analysts, merchants, artisans – civilians, to put it simply. There are a few who can claim otherwise – Ironhide and Cliffjumper to name a few – but for the most part, they are mechs who reluctantly engage in combat and it shows.  
  
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, by all accounts, should be Decepticons. Skyfire's read what history is publicly available. He's studied their temperament, their skills. Sunstreaker and Megatron even used to be friends, ages and ages ago! There have been many comments, aloud and subvocally, that the twins joined the wrong team, so to speak.   
  
Yet, here they are, fighting alongside the Autobots, day after day, risking that which they hold most precious. Skyfire wonders why, and then he asks himself, the whole war is pointless at this point. Does it matter what each individual motivation is?   
  
For the sake of his sanity, he decides it doesn't. His own choices may have a basis in logic and reasoning, but he suspects that the longer he stays here, he'll get infected by the same insanity that plagues Autobots and Decepticons alike. It's not an enticing prospect but he sees little other options.   
  
Cybertron is dead and according to the records, the Universe hates Cybertronians. The prospect of spending the next several thousand millennia alone (like the ice, frozen and empty and alone) is just unappealing enough to tip the scales in favor of playing an endless taxi for the Autobots.   
  
Better then, Skyfire resolves, to keep doing what he's always done: keep his distance.   
  
And that works. For the most part.   
  
Until he turns around in his shared laboratory one day and nearly suffers from spark failure to see Sunstreaker standing there, examining a half-finished reproduction of a piece of medical equipment Ratchet had requested. Skyfire hadn't heard the doors open or the mech walk in or even felt Sunstreaker's energy field. And he is quite sure that he hadn't been concentrating that hard.   
  
He towers over Sunstreaker by nearly twice the mech's frame and yet, Skyfire's the one who feels small when those bright optics gradually shift toward him. There's quiet menace coiled in the yellow twin's frame and Skyfire is very much aware of that. He's seen the twins take down mechs much larger than themselves. It's not a stretch to guess he wouldn't stand a chance against them. And even though he can't see Sideswipe, he's not going to assume that the red twin isn't here.   
  
“Um,” Skyfire says, appalled at his own lack of coherent speech. “Can I help you?”   
  
_Must. Not. Offend_. The warning reverberates in his processor.   
  
“I dunno.” Sunstreaker taps a finger against a piece of metal, the light chime ringing through the laboratory. “Seems we're the ones that can help you, considering the way you've been staring.”   
  
He gives Skyfire a sideways look, one orbital ridge raised.   
  
Too late does Skyfire recognize the use of 'we'.   
  
“The humans have a saying,” Sideswipe says from where he's lounging as he leans against a desk. “Curiosity killed the cat.” He flashes a smile that an ignorant mech might take as friendly.   
  
“We don't know what you're looking for,” Sunstreaker continues and Skyfire has to take a step back, angle his frame, so he can see both of them at once. He feels more than a little cornered.   
  
“We don't care either,” Sideswipe says. “But if you think we're some kind of kindred spirit, you'd be wrong.”   
  
“And if you think you can figure us out, well, better mechs than you have tried,” Sunstreaker says with a grimace that Skyfire's gradually parsed is Sunstreaker's version of a smile.   
  
“I wasn't--”  
  
His protest is cut off before he can even get started, though Skyfire has no idea what he's protesting because he's not quite sure what he's being accused of doing.   
  
“You were,” Sideswipe says and pushes himself off the desk, every motion languid but with a purpose buried beneath. “So keep your optics to yourself and we won't have any problems, clear?”   
  
They're glaring at him now and Skyfire's not so dumb as to not recognize this for the threat it is. Oh, they won't do anything permanent. Nothing to get them on the wrong side of Prowl's justice. But they are devious pitspawns that can make his existence the Pit on Earth, even worse than he has it already.   
  
“Crystal,” Skyfire says, relying on the human vernacular that Sideswipe seems to favor so much. He'll have to thank Bumblebee for the datapad that helps ensure he understands their half of the conversation.   
  
“Good.” And Sunstreaker gives another one of those grimacing smiles that chills Skyfire down to his backstrut. “Then we understand each other.”  
  
Well, Skyfire's not sure about that. He knows he stepped in something, but not what. Nor is he sure what issue has left rust in their tailpipes. But he does know what happens when Sideswipe or Sunstreaker feel threatened and he doesn't want to invite that kind of retaliation on himself.   
  
“Yes, we do,” Skyfire says.   
  
They leave, much more obviously than the manner they'd used to sneak in. Their words linger in Skyfire's audials and he doesn't bother to protest the shiver that creeps down to his spark. It takes several long moments before he can concentrate enough to get back to work.   
  
Skyfire hadn't liked the twins at first. And he doesn't much like them now.   
  
Fortunately, it seems, that feeling is mutual.

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Social interaction is not Sunstreaker's strong suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For fuzipenguin's flash fiction prompt of Skyfire/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, “Steady Now,” Brandon Heath

Sunstreaker was in the awkward position of having to thank a mech he did not like. He wasn't sure how to handle this.   
  
But Skyfire had plucked Sideswipe out of the sky when his Primus-damned jetpack had failed him and he'd saved Sideswipe's spark as a result. He'd kept Sunstreaker's most precious object from splattering on the hard rock despite the fact he and Sideswipe had all but threatened Skyfire two weeks ago.   
  
It had been effective though. It had stopped the creepy staring. Sunstreaker's armor stopped crawling. Sideswipe stopped jumping at shadows.   
  
Whatever reason Skyfire was submitting them to so much scrutiny, they hadn't cared. They just wanted him to stop. Mechs didn't usually pay that much attention to the Twins unless they wanted something.   
  
Sunstreaker knew frag well what that something was, too.   
  
No, they weren't for sale. Frag that. And no, they weren't looking for an easy fight. And no, they weren't fragging Decepticons. Any other stupid questions?  
  
Anyway. Skyfire could have let Sideswipe fall. No one would have blamed him. No one would have noticed. Skyfire wasn't even supposed to be on this side of the battlefield. He was supposed to be distracting Starscream.   
  
He'd swooped out of nowhere, plucked Sideswipe from a freefall, and had been nothing but polite when he'd deposited Sideswipe into Ratchet's cursing arms. Sideswipe was still in the medbay. He wasn't in danger of offlining, but he was bored and in a Pitload of pain and Sunstreaker had to shut down their bond to quiet the whining.   
  
The glitching jetpack had fried some wiring in his locomotive circuits, which left Sideswipe berthbound and all but paralyzed. But he was alive. He would live. Ratchet would fix him up soon enough and if it hadn't been for Skyfire, Sideswipe would be dead and Sunstreaker probably, too.   
  
He wasn't sure how to reconcile that. Except Ratchet had told him to thank Skyfire and he'd used that tone that Sunstreaker knew frag well not to argue with. Ratchet had looked angry, too. Not like he was mad because Sideswipe was playing tag with the Seekers again. Or because the glitching jetpack glitched. Or because Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were being idiots.   
  
He looked offended on Skyfire's behalf. Like he'd heard what happened and he didn't approve, but he wasn't going to say anything because it wasn't his place. Maybe. At least, that was what Sunstreaker thought the reason could be. He'd probably ask Sideswipe about it later when his brother was a little less sedative loopy.   
  
For now, Sunstreaker had gratitude to deliver. Sideswipe would have to say it, too. Ratchet said he'd make sure of it. But he wanted them to do it separately. To prove they meant it or some such slag.   
  
Whatever.   
  
Sunstreaker paced back and forth in front of Skyfire's door again. He didn't want to do this. Skyfire made him feel twitchy. Like glitchmice under his armor. He didn't like the way Skyfire looked at him. Like he and Sideswipe were what was wrong with Skyfire's perfect idea of Cybertron or something.   
  
Sunstreaker ex-vented sharply and spun on a heelstrut.   
  
He didn't talk to mechs without Sideswipe. He usually let Sideswipe take the lead so Sunstreaker didn't say something stupid or read the situation wrong. He did not like this. He especially did not like that it was fragging Skyfire.   
  
Sunstreaker growled. His hands curled into fists at his side as he slammed to a halt and glared at Skyfire's door.   
  
He couldn't put this off anymore. He slammed his palm on the call panel and jerked back several steps, folding his arms over his chestplate. His armor rustled. He was fully aware he looked more than a little defensive and didn't fragging care. He was uncomfortable. He didn't like this.   
  
He waited, vents becoming increasingly stuttered, until finally the door opened. Skyfire stood just behind it, stooping a little to see outside it. He blinked and Sunstreaker could see his optics searching the hallway like Sideswipe was hiding in the shadows to pop out and scare him or something.   
  
Skyfire gripped the doorway with one hand. Sunstreaker watched his grip tighten, the slight shake to his fingers. The way his knuckles creaked. Ratchet should probably look at that.   
  
They stared at each other.   
  
“Yes?” Skyfire finally ventured.   
  
“You saved Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker said, words ground out from a vocalizer that he'd had to prod back to life. Primus, he was terrible at this.   
  
Skyfire cycled his optics. Nothing in his posture relaxed. “I assisted him,” he said in that infuriatingly even tone. “It was the same any Autobot would have done.”   
  
Sunstreaker flinched. “Don't give me that slag. Most woulda let him fall.”   
  
His arms tightened. His shoulders hunched. Sunstreaker made himself look away because his spark was hammering in his chest and the flickering was coming through his optics, betraying his weakness.   
  
He hated it.   
  
“But I did not,” Skyfire said, stupidly, because 'duh.'   
  
“Yeah.” Sunstreaker ex-vented in a burst. “So, um, thank you. For catching my idiot brother before he cracked his cranial case on the ground.”   
  
Silence.   
  
Sunstreaker snuck a peek at Skyfire and the damn shuttle was staring at Sunstreaker as though he were something Skyfire had never seen before. His mouth had even fallen open a little.   
  
“What?” Sunstreaker snapped.   
  
Skyfire shook his helm. “No, I... I would do it again. Even though... just well. I'd do it again.” He looked at the ground at Sunstreaker's pedes and hunched his shoulders as though trying to come off smaller.   
  
Yeah. Sunstreaker had fragged it up again. He was trying to be grateful and instead it seemed like he was threatening Skyfire. Ratchet was going to be so slagged.   
  
Sunstreaker sighed and scraped a hand over his helm. He needed to visit the washracks and he needed to check on Sideswipe and he needed to get out of this uncomfortable situation.   
  
“Anyway,” he said as he turned away. “That was it. Just wanted to, you know, let you know that I appreciated it. And, uh, we don't hate you, you know?” There. Maybe that helped.   
  
There was a noise, the sound of hydraulics hissing, maybe Skyfire shifting his weight. It was weird how quiet he could be for how big he was. Sunstreaker never liked that about Skyfire. Plus, for a mech so big, he tried to be small way too often.   
  
“Sunstreaker?”   
  
He cringed and looked over his shoulder, wiping his faceplate clean of expression. “What?”   
  
Skyfire was completely out of the doorway now. He stood a little straighter now, which was kind of better. His wings were twitching like Prowl's did when he was struggling to find something to say that wasn't going to make Sunstreaker angry.   
  
“You're welcome,” he said.   
  
Sunstreaker honestly didn't know what he was supposed to say that. His societal cues were coming up empty and Sideswipe wasn't here to prompt him. Adding another thank you seemed excessive. But he didn't want to prolong the conversation either.   
  
So he just... didn't.   
  
He jerked his helm in something like a nod – acknowledgment maybe? – and walked away. Maybe he moved too fast. Maybe he hurried. He hoped that Skyfire didn't call his name again. His backplate twitched and crawled.   
  
Interaction. Sunstreaker loathed it. He wasn't good at it. Sideswipe owed him. Sideswipe owed him big time. Ratchet, too. All of them.   
  
Sunstreaker wasn't any good at this, frag it.   
  


****


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet's chastisement holds more weight, and Sideswipe realizes an apology is needed.

“You did what?”   
  
Sideswipe gamely tried to wriggle his way off the berth. Ratchet just as easily shoved him back down.   
  
“I sent him to thank Skyfire,” Ratchet said. He gave Sideswipe a long look, one that suggested he had no problems gluing Sideswipe down if need be. “Sunstreaker's a big mech. He can offer gratitude without you holding his hand.”   
  
“No, he can't.” Sideswipe huffed his frustration. “He's either going to get us sent to the brig, or he's going to get himself so worked up that _I'll_ have to deal with it later.”   
  
Ratchet rolled his optics. “Give him some credit, Sideswipe. He's not a complete moron.”   
  
“Just most of one.” Sideswipe tossed his helm back against the berth pillow. “Why would you even think that was a good idea, Ratchet?”   
  
“Maybe because he needs to know how to function on his own? You baby him too much, Sideswipe,” Ratchet said with another pointed look. “How's he going to grow if you don't let him take risks?”   
  
Sideswipe snarled and popped back up. “The last time I did that, _Hound_ of all mechs ended up on your operating table and Sunny was stuck in solitary for a week. We all know what good that did him.”   
  
Short answer? None. No good. Sunstreaker liked to be alone, but he didn't want to be alone. He operated in the curious state of hating to be around others, but loathing and dreading complete solitude.   
  
“Calm down.” Ratchet put a hand to his helm and shoved him back to the berth. Gently. Well, gently for Ratchet. “He's fine. It's been an hour. And what do you hear?”   
  
“Nothing,” Sideswipe huffed.   
  
“Exactly. No alarms. No sirens. No brawling. Nothing. So either your brother chickened out and is hiding in your room, or he said a proper thank you and then went to hide in your rooms. Or the washracks. Probably one and then the other,” Ratchet said with a wry grin. He knew them a little too well.   
  
“Besides,” Ratchet continued as he scooted back down to focus on Sideswipe's hip again. His rolling chair screeched a protest, “can't you just check on him through the bond?”   
  
“He's blocking me.” Sideswipe frowned with irritation.   
  
“Because you were annoying him, I imagine.”   
  
“What makes you say that?” Sideswipe gave Ratchet an indignant look. “I'll have you know I'm an absolute delight.”   
  
Ratchet snorted and didn't dignify that with an answer. He started digging in Sideswipe's hip again, not that Sideswipe could feel anything. Ratchet had the good sensory dampeners.   
  
Sideswipe poked along the bond again. Nope. Still nothing. He supposed he could ping Sunstreaker's comm if it was that serious.   
  
“You need to thank Skyfire, too, Sides,” Ratchet said, his voice floating up from Sideswipe's hip.   
  
Sideswipe frowned. “He was just doing what any Autobot would do. Pretty sure I've pulled his aft from the fire once or twice. Why does he deserve special gratitude?”  
  
“Because I know you threatened him even after I told you it wasn't what you thought it was.”   
  
His gaze slid back down to Ratchet but the medic wasn't looking at him. He was focused intently on Sideswipe's hip.   
  
“Skyfire's a good mech. He didn't deserve it,” Ratchet added.   
  
Sideswipe looked away. He wasn't particularly fond of a Ratchet Lecture. They were worse than Prowl Lectures and Optimus Prime's Look of Disappoint. Ratchet made him feel guilty where no one else could.   
  
“He was staring,” Sideswipe grumbled.   
  
“Was he?” Ratchet asked. “Or did you jump to conclusions? Did you even talk to him or did you just skip straight to the threats?”   
  
Sideswipe plucked at the berth padding beneath him. He didn't answer that. He didn't want to answer that.   
  
“That's what I thought,” Ratchet said.   
  
Silence fell. Sideswipe welcomed it. He let Ratchet work and poked along the bond again. It opened up by a sliver, enough that Sunstreaker acknowledged his presence, but didn't actually respond. He felt... confused and bothered, but not homicidal. So the conversation with Skyfire had gone well, Sideswipe supposed.   
  
Or Sunstreaker had yet to go through with it. Sometimes, the threat of Ratchet wasn't enough. Not often, but Sunstreaker could be obstinate on occasion. Sunstreaker was pretty much the definition of the term.   
  
Ratchet sat back, closing Sideswipe's hip panel with a snap. He patted Sideswipe's arm. “There. You're fixed. Give it another hour for the dampener to wear off before you try to move or you'll regret it. Got me?”   
  
“Yes, Ratchet.”   
  
He waited for Ratchet to get up and leave him alone. But when it didn't happen, Sideswipe turned his helm to look at the medic. Ratchet was staring at him with that look he usually got when he wanted to have a serious discussion. Sideswipe squirmed internally.   
  
“What?” he asked.   
  
“How long have you been with us?” Ratchet asked, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “How long have you two fought beside us and shared in our energon? How long have I been looking after you, fixing you, and watching out for you?”  
  
Sideswipe worked his intake. “That's not--”  
  
“A long time,” Ratchet said, softly interrupting him. He laid his hand over Sideswipe's, squeezing. “I understand why you two don't trust. I get it, I do. But the more you keep up those walls and push everyone away, the more you'll never heal.”   
  
Sideswipe turned his helm away. He didn't want to hear it.   
  
“I need you to listen to me, Sideswipe,” Ratchet said. “I need you to hear what I'm saying. Because if you two keep on like this, you'll be hurting yourselves. I don't want to see that, do you understand?”   
  
He cycled a ventilation. “Yes, Ratchet.”   
  
Silence fell between them. He could feel the weight of Ratchet's gaze and his concern. It always made Sideswipe feel like a sparkling again. Sometimes, he was glad for it. Other times, it tapped into guilt Sideswipe tried not to feel. Guilt was weakness. Guilt didn't help you survive.   
  
The chair squeaked as Ratchet stood, his old frame creaking as well. He felt the medic clap a hand on his shoulder, squeezing warmly.   
  
“Get some rest, Sideswipe. I'll come back in an hour and make sure that sedative's worn off.”   
  
“Yes, Ratchet.”   
  
Ratchet's field nudged his with a comforting warmth before the medic took his leave, no doubt to check on the rest of the patients. The battle had been quick but brutal and while they hadn't suffered any losses, they hadn't gained any ground either. The war against the Decepticons was at a stalemate.   
  
Sideswipe's spark tingled. The bond with his brother opened up by a fraction. Sideswipe shifted on the berth, turning his helm toward the door.   
  
“Come on in, Sunny. Ratch's gone.”   
  
Yellow plating filled the doorway, Sunstreaker inching into view like a sparkling recently chastised for bad behavior. His optics were downcast, his plating clamped down tight.   
  
“What are you doing?” Sideswipe demanded as he propped himself up with his elbows. “Get your aft in here.”   
  
Sunstreaker inched inside. “I talked to Skyfire.”   
  
“I know. Ratch told me.” Sideswipe narrowed his optics. “Come on. Sit down. Tell me what happened.”   
  
Sunstreaker cycled an audible ventilation and took the rolling stool Ratchet had abandoned. The wheels creaked as he rolled closer, still staring at the floor as though he couldn't believe it was there. He was acting weird and Sideswipe could barely sense anything through the bond, so he didn't know why.   
  
“I thanked him,” Sunstreaker said, words bitten out as though they hurt him to say. “But he acted all weird about it. I don't know why.”   
  
He reached for his brother's hand and frowned when Sunstreaker didn't reach back. He was bothered by this.   
  
“Show me,” Sideswipe said. “C'mon. Let me see.” Maybe he could make sense of it.   
  
Sunstreaker cycled a ventilation and scrubbed a hand down his faceplate. But the block on his side of the bond relented, allowing Sideswipe access. It wasn't hard to find the encounter with Skyfire as it was still in Sunstreaker's short-term memory banks. And it had left an impression on him.   
  
Sideswipe frowned as he reviewed the conversation. He saw the same details as Sunstreaker, only his social protocols were better equipped to translate them.   
  
Guilt increased tenfold. Ratchet was right. Primus damn it, but Ratchet was right and they owed Skyfire more than gratitude. They owed him an apology and other things, too.   
  
“He was scared,” Sideswipe said quietly.   
  
Sunstreaker shot to his pedes, his field flaring wildly. “I didn't do anything!”   
  
“I know.” Sideswipe sighed and pressed the heel of his palm to his optical socket. He collapsed back against the berth, ignoring the twinge in his hip. “It wasn't because of something you did. Well, it was. But it was both of us.”   
  
Ach, what a mess.   
  
Sunstreaker's orbital ridge drew down. “I thought that was what we wanted. For him to be scared. So that he'd leave us alone.” His confusion was palpable.  
  
Sideswipe sighed. “Except he wasn't bothering us in the first place.” They had mistakenly assumed he was staring at them for nefarious purposes. That was the only reason anyone had ever stared at them. And they'd learned to strike first because later, it was far too late.   
  
Sunstreaker scowled and folded his arms over his chestplate. His shoulders hunched further. “You're not making any sense, Sides. How am I supposed to get this if you don't tell me stuff?” he muttered, and his gaze skittered to the side.   
  
Distress curdled through his field and his spark.   
  
Sideswipe hauled himself up, his lower half still somewhat sedated, and managed to hook a finger on one of Sunstreaker's seams. He tugged and Sunstreaker reluctantly stepped closer.   
  
“Hey,” he said, trying to encourage his twin to unfurl a little. “You did good, bro. Really. From what I can tell, you did everything right.”   
  
“He was scared of me,” Sunstreaker bit out, still unwilling to meet Sideswipe's optics. His mood plummeted further. “What if he goes to Prime? We don't have any more chances left, Sides. They're gonna kick us out and it's going to be my fault. Again.”   
  
Sideswipe tugged and Sunstreaker slumped onto the berth, still in a ball of inconsolable Lamborghini. “He's not gonna go to Prime,” Sideswipe insisted as he pulled Sunstreaker into his lap. “We're not going anywhere.”   
  
Silence from his twin. Which Sideswipe expected. Sunstreaker always retreated inward, where his thoughts would endlessly circulate.   
  
“Look, Skyfire's reasonable, right?” Sideswipe said as slid onto his back again and was unsurprised to find Sunstreaker remaining plastered to him, their limbs tangling as though Sunny was trying to make them all one frame and one spark.   
  
“You thanked him,” Sideswipe continued as he stroked Sunstreaker's back. “I'll do it, too. And we'll… apologize, okay? We can't be faulted for that.”   
  
Damn, but that apology was going to hurt. Admitting they were wrong was not something either of them was prone to doing.   
  
But Sideswipe couldn't shake the look on Skyfire's face from the back of his mind. It was filtered through Sunstreaker, but the fear and the discomfort, they were there. They were obvious.   
  
Skyfire had done nothing against them since they confronted him two weeks ago. He'd actually done his best to avoid them, truth be told. Anyone else, like that fragger Gears or that cocky slagger Cliffjumper, would have jumped in the way or made a nuisance of themselves. They seemed to take threats as invitations.   
  
Not Skyfire.   
  
He didn't play the game like everyone else knew how to play.   
  
“We can make it right,” Sideswipe said as he felt Sunstreaker's ex-vents against his intake. “And hey, even if we did frag up, at least we'll be together right?”   
  
Sunstreaker snorted. “Great. Stuck with you. That must be the real punishment.” His spark, however, pulsed in gratitude and sheer, unadulterated love.   
  
Social savant Sunstreaker might not be, but Sideswipe never doubted his love.   
  
Sideswipe grinned and snuggled with his brother, already formulating a plan of action. First things first, he had to get out of the medbay.   
  
Thankfully, Ratchet released him a few hours later. Moving gingerly on his sore hip, Sideswipe sent Sunstreaker away to fetch some energon and meet him back in their quarters. Sideswipe, meanwhile, made a detour to the corner of the Ark where Skyfire had been given a room.   
  
Lucky flyer had one of the larger ones. But then, he did need it. Must be uncomfortable as it was to displace so much mass on a daily basis. The least they could do was give him an appropriately sized room.   
  
Sideswipe pressed the door bell and shifted his weight to his other hip. He really was aching and all he wanted to do was go back to his room and indulge in some rest. He was, for once, going to take advantage of the fact Ratchet had him off-duty. He'd injured this same hip enough times that he might need to get it replaced soon, which would be a longer recovery time.   
  
So yes, Ratchet, he was listening to reason and taking it easy. Sheesh.   
  
The door opened and Skyfire looked down at him. “Uh,” he said, and noisily cleared his vocalizer. “Yes. How can I help you, Sideswipe?”   
  
He planted a big smile on his face. “Actually, I'm kind of here to help you?” he said and tried to exude a sense of charm. “No, it's more like I'm here to apologize.”   
  
“Oh.” Skyfire hovered in his doorway, his expression one of confusion. “That's unnecessary. But I appreciate the offer.”   
  
He stepped back, Sideswipe lurched forward. “Wait!” he cried, and hissed as the too-quick movement made still-healing joints screech together. “Ow! I mean, damn it. Could I just… have a second?”   
  
Skyfire hesitated. His wings, what little of them Sideswipe could see, twitched. “Yes,” he said finally and audibly cycled a ventilation. “What is it?”   
  
Well, this was awkward.   
  
Sideswipe stepped back, hoping it would make Skyfire a little more comfortable, and held up his hands. “First of all, thanks for saving my aft. You didn't have to, considering how we kind of threatened you and everything, but you did. And I'm glad I didn't go splat.”   
  
“So am I.” A touch of humor entered Skyfire's expression, which was in Sideswipe's opinion, a lot better than the wariness. “I would do it again.”   
  
“Yeah. So thanks for that.” Sideswipe lowered his hands and rubbed the back of his helm. This was the harder part. “But more than that, we're sorry. For attacking you like we did. We assumed something we shouldn't have and reacted a way we shouldn't and we're sorry we hurt you.”   
  
Skyfire stared at him.   
  
Sideswipe resisted the urge to fidget. No wonder Sunstreaker had come back so perturbed. Sideswipe wasn't used to feeling guilty. He had never cared if other Autobots hated them before because they were usually slaggers.   
  
But he hadn't been in the awkward position of those fraggers saving his life when they didn't have to either. And usually, they'd given the insult first.   
  
Sideswipe scraped a hand over his helm. “Anyway, that's what I came here to say. Both thank you and we're sorry and… well, that's it.” He offered a smile, tentative at best, and turned to go.   
  
“Sideswipe.” Skyfire's vocals were stronger this time and when Sideswipe looked back at him, something almost like a smile was on his face.   
  
Sideswipe never realized how handsome he was.   
  
“I forgive you,” Skyfire said.   
  
“Oh,” Sideswipe said as his faceplate unexpectedly warmed. He took a step back. “That's, um, that's good.” He ducked his helm and backed away again. “Have a good night.”   
  
He absolutely did not flee down the hallway, but it was close to it. Skyfire called something out to him, but Sideswipe's buzzing audials didn't catch it.   
  
That was just… weird. All around.   
  
Sideswipe hurried back to the room he shared with his twin. Sunstreaker was already nagging him across the bond for an explanation and Sideswipe didn't have one.   
  
That didn't make any sense at all.   
  


****


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Skyfire is flummoxed, Ratchet is exasperated, Sunstreaker tries, and Sideswipe gets flustered.

They warned him.   
  
Sunstreaker thanked him.   
  
Sideswipe apologized.   
  
Skyfire considered that to be the end. Things would go back to normal. He'd continue to keep his distance, but he would no longer feel obligated to leave the common room if the Twins entered it. Maybe they might even be friends as well as comrades.   
  
Skyfire was happy to move on and put the whole thing behind him.   
  
And then the gifts started appearing on his doorstep. They were little things at first: new datapads, small gadgets, boxes of energon goodies, tiny vials of flavored energon, tins of scented wax…  
  
But every day, it was something new.   
  
It was utterly baffling.   
  
Especially since he knew they came from Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. He had already forgiven them, there was no need for gifts. And yet, Skyfire was being inundated with them on a daily basis. He'd tried telling them that it wasn't necessary, but Sunstreaker started fleeing when Skyfire came near, and Sideswipe redirected the conversation with such skill that Skyfire was surprised he wasn't in Special Ops.   
  
Without any answers, Skyfire resorted to a back-up plan.   
  
He went to the medbay in search of Ratchet, who sighed and pinched his chevron when he saw Skyfire coming.   
  
“What've those two idiots done now?” he asked with the air of an exhausted genitor.   
  
Despite the situation, Skyfire found himself grinning. “I take it this is a common occurrence.”   
  
“Not as often as you'd think, but I know that look in your optics.” Ratchet waved a hand toward him, gesturing for Skyfire to follow him. “What did they do?”   
  
“It's nothing bad,” Skyfire rushed to reassure, almost as though he feared Ratchet was already coming up with ways to punish the Twins. “I'm just… confused.”   
  
They stepped into Ratchet's office, and he closed the door behind them. Skyfire turned in a circle, finally selecting a stool that looked as though it might support his weight. Ratchet flopped down on the ratty-looking couch, exhaustion evident in the pinch of his expression.   
  
“Confused why?” he asked.   
  
Skyfire rubbed his palms down his thighs. “Well,” he said. “They're giving me gifts, and I don't understand why. I've already accepted their apology. When I try to speak with them about it, I get the runaround.”   
  
Ratchet loudly cycled a ventilation and palmed his faceplate. “Those idiots,” he muttered, perhaps to himself, and looked over his hand at Skyfire. “It looks like you have a couple of admirers.”   
  
Skyfire's fans stalled. “I… beg pardon?” He couldn't be more bewildered if he tried.   
  
It was impossible. How could they go from loathing Skyfire and threatening to dismantle him, to all of the sudden wanting to give him gifts? They were as mercurial as Starscream, and that was not a compliment.   
  
“You heard me,” Ratchet said with a sideways look. “Because it's either that, or they think you're still in need of apologies. I'm more inclined to believe the former.”   
  
Skyfire worked his jaw. “Ratchet, I don't understand.”   
  
“I know you don't.” Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose, his field flicking with the air of someone long-suffering. “It's because they are idiots who don't know the first thing about interacting with normal mechs, especially normal mechs who spent most of the war away from the war.”   
  
Skyfire rebooted his vocalizer. “You're telling me,” he began slowly. “That I am receiving gifts from them because they have an… an infatuation with me?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Then why don't they just say so?” Skyfire demanded, exasperated. His wings flicked upward.   
  
“Probably cause they don't know how.” Ratchet shrugged, but it was far from dismissive. “They don't know the words, don't know how you'd take it. Probably aren't even sure themselves what they want.”   
  
“I never thought they'd hesitate about anything,” Skyfire murmured.   
  
“Not in battle, no.” Ratchet shifted his weight, his frame creaking with fatigue as he did so. “Battle, they understand. It's training. It's instinct. It's all they've ever known. Social interaction, well, that's a different story. Sideswipe understands better than Sunstreaker, but that's not saying much.”   
  
Skyfire mulled on that, only to be struck with a sudden concern. “They're not… untouched are they?”   
  
Ratchet stared at him for a moment before he laughed and grinned. “No. Certainly not. They've berthhopped as much as I have. Casual encounters are easy. There are no expectations.”   
  
Skyfire's face heated. He knew Ratchet had to see it. He twisted his fingers together. “Then…?”  
  
“They want something different from you,” Ratchet said with a nod. “And they're coming from a curious place of having insulted you previously. So they are doing the best they can with what they have.”   
  
“I… see.” Skyfire settled into his stool, his thoughts a whirl.   
  
Ratchet swept a hand over his helm. “I suppose the question you really need to be asking is whether or not you want them to stop.”   
  
Skyfire's wings twitched. “I have to admit that I'm flattered.” He gave Ratchet a sideways look, his face heating further. “They are both very attractive.”  
  
Ratchet chuckled. “That they are. But also complicated.” He paused and gave Skyfire a long look in return. “If you are interested, than say so. If not, say that as well. They won't figure it out on their own.”   
  
Skyfire rapped his fingers on his thighs. “This is unexpected.”   
  
“Tell me about it.” Ratchet barked a laugh.   
  
“How is it that you understand them so well anyway?” Skyfire asked, desperate to change the subject by degrees, if only to give his processor something else to focus on.   
  
“I've put those two scrapheap rejects back together more times than I can count. Somewhere along the way, they decided to trust me.” Ratchet waved a dismissive hand and pushed to his pedes, rubbing at the base of his spinal strut. “Now, I've got to get back to work and you--”  
  
“--have some thinking to do,” Skyfire finished for him, also rising. His wings rose higher on his back. “Thank you, Ratchet. For the advice.”   
  
Ratchet's lips curved. “Thank me after you've figured out what to do with those two pitspawn.”   
  
~  
  
Skyfire mulled it over for days. He avoided the Twins as surely as they avoided him, preferring instead to decide for himself what he wanted before he confronted them. It was complicated indeed, and Skyfire never expected to find himself in this position.   
  
Even before he and the Twins had their little tiff, Skyfire had been something of persona non grata when it came to relationships around the Ark. He supposed it was the taint of Starscream he carried around with him like a hulking combiner in the corner. Or perhaps he couldn't blame Starscream. Perhaps he simply wasn't interesting or attractive or untrustworthy. There were dozens of potential factors.   
  
Maybe he just preferred to have Starscream to blame rather than the blow to the ego that was considering himself undesirable.   
  
Either way, Skyfire was surprised to find anyone, particularly two someones, especially the Twins, to have anything like a genuine interest in him. He was beyond flattered. He had to admit, also, he was curious. Intrigued.   
  
Tempted.   
  
Though he was not yet certain what he wished to do about it.   
  
Which was, of course, when Skyfire heard scratching at his door.   
  
That’s it. This time, he intended to catch them in the act.   
  
Skyfire leapt up off his berth, and vaulted across the floor, slamming his palm onto the access panel so hard it spat up sparks. The door, as if obedient to his haste, sprang open as though it hadn’t just been demanding oil this morning.   
  
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked up at him, like two deer caught in headlights, Sideswipe in the middle of setting yet another wrapped package on the ground as Sunstreaker’s hand hung mid-air, something magnetic dangling from his fingers.   
  
Sunstreaker blinked.   
  
Sideswipe coughed. “Oh, uh, good morning!” he said brightly. “We were just–”  
  
“Leaving me yet another inexplicable gift?” Skyfire asked mildly, one orbital ridge crawling upward.   
  
Sunstreaker’s hand continued to linger, as though he’d forgotten how to move. “…. yes?”   
  
It sounded more like a question.   
  
Primus save them.   
  
Skyfire resisted the urge to facepalm. And also, he owed Ratchet a vintage bottle of high grade. Because damn it, the medic was right. They were both of them clueless.   
  
“Has it ever occurred to either of you that a simpler, cheaper, and more productive solution would be to, I don't know, talk to me?” Skyfire asked, his gaze skittering from one twin to the other.   
  
Sideswipe blinked. Sunstreaker finally lowered his hand, tucking whatever object he carried into a loose fist.   
  
“Talk… to you?” Sunstreaker repeated, as though he suddenly didn't understand what words meant and needed clarification.   
  
Sideswipe sighed and straightened, still clutching the glitter-bedazzled gift as though it were a lifeline. “See, the thing is, we figured you wouldn't want to talk to us. So we thought--”  
  
“--that you would spend the next few millennia sending me anonymous gifts?” Skyfire finished for him, and he couldn't help it. His lips twitched. Amusement made his wings flutter.   
  
“I thought it was nice,” Sunstreaker mumbled. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking about as dangerous as a sparkling who'd been caught nicking energon candies.   
  
“Yes.” Sideswipe nodded firmly. “That and we figured, well, the gifts couldn’t hurt our chances.” With that, he thrust the bedecked box toward Skyfire again.   
  
He took it because he couldn't think of a reason not to, the box surprisingly heavy in comparison to the other presents that had been left for him.   
  
“Thank you,” Skyfire replied. He had to admit that he was touched by the gifts, by their kindness, though it still baffled him. “I appreciate the gifts. Honestly. But you don't have to keep bringing them.”   
  
Sunstreaker, of all things, looked crestfallen. “You don't like them?”   
  
“I do,” Skyfire was quick to say, and even found himself leaning forward, as though trying to soothe a sparkling. He tilted back on his heelstruts. “I do. I only meant that they are not necessary. As I said, talking to me is a better alternative. Perhaps you might even consider inviting me to go somewhere with you.”   
  
Sunstreaker blinked. “Like a date?”   
  
“You'd actually agree to one?” Sideswipe added.   
  
They had a curious way of completing one another's thoughts but not one another's sentences. From a scientific perspective, it was fascinating. But Skyfire had learned his lesson about regarding them with anything like curiosity.   
  
“Yes, I would,” Skyfire answered, and was relieved to find that he genuinely meant it. Despite their previous threat and the rocky start the three of them had, he was genuinely interested in spending time with the twins, for friendship at the very least.   
  
Perhaps more if all went well.   
  
Sunstreaker's jaw dropped.   
  
Sideswipe blinked, and then his mouth split into one of the cheesiest grins that Skyfire had ever seen.   
  
“Oh,” Sideswipe said and sidled just a bit closer, so that the most distant edges of their fields brushed. “Well, in that case, how about the next time you're off-shift, we meet for dinner?”   
  
Sunstreaker inched closer to his brother, adding his field to Sideswipe's, so that Skyfire could sense the tentative anticipation in it.   
  
“Dinner,” Skyfire repeated as amusement trickled into his spark. “Yes. That sounds agreeable.”   
  
“Good.” Sideswipe's smile widened and he tilted against his twin, knocking their shoulders. “Then we're just gonna go now. Let you get back to, uh, whatever it is you were doing before we push our luck too far.”   
  
Skyfire's lips twitched. “If you insist.” He gestured to them with the box. “Thank you for the gift.”   
  
“You're welcome.” It was soft, but coming from Sunstreaker, was worth everything.   
  
They skedaddled, leaving Skyfire to watch their exit with a mixture of amusement and flattery. It certainly was better than the lingering fear they'd left him with last time.   
  
Skyfire also bet that Ratchet would be glad to know he was right all along.   
  


****


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyfire tries. Sunstreaker panics. And Sideswipe feels like a pinball.

This was a bad idea.   
  
Sunstreaker navigated around their couch, an end table, his brother, a game controller, and a chair. He clenched his hands to keep from wringing them, though the urge tugged at him.   
  
“This is a bad idea,” he said aloud, or mumbled rather.   
  
“Calm your hydraulics, bro. It’s gonna be fine,” Sideswipe said. His attention was focused on the screen where a quick flick of his finger sent one of the competing cars into a tailspin, immediately followed by a loud crash.   
  
“No, it’s not, Sides,” Sunstreaker said. “We’re idiots. What do we know about dates or… talking… or normal mechs.” His ventilations sped up. “We don’t. That’s what.”   
  
Sideswipe paused his game. “Sunny--”  
  
“No.” Sunstreaker shook his helm, drawing in a ragged ventilation. “No. I changed my mind. I can’t do this.”   
  
He really couldn’t. It was too much. It wasn’t what he signed up for.   
  
Slag. There his hands went. Tangling together. Fragging nervous tic. Was weakness was what it was. Kind of slag that got you pounded on. He felt too safe if he thought it was okay to be this kind of shaky, useless slagger.   
  
“Yes, you can.” Sideswipe leapt to his pedes and interrupted Sunstreaker before he could dive into their berthroom and slam the door. “It’s not like you’re doin’ it alone, dumbaft.”   
  
Sunstreaker folded his arms and hunched his shoulders. “I’m going to frag this up for us,” he bit out, his spark squeezing and squeezing into the tiniest of balls. He pushed all of his uncertainty into a long pulse at their bond.   
  
Sideswipe responded with a bright burst of reassurance. “No. You’re not.” He rested his hands on Sunstreaker’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze.   
  
Sunstreaker nibbled on his bottom lip, denta instigating a harsher pressure that edged toward pain. “What’re we even trying to do, Sides? Seriously. We’re not cut out for normal stuff like this. Like… like...”  
  
“Romance? Affection? Connection?” Sideswipe finished for him, his voice softening into that low register that always seemed to calm Sunstreaker’s spark. “Maybe it’s time we tried, huh? You ever thought about that?”   
  
Sunstreaker couldn’t meet his brother’s gaze. He nibbled hard enough to taste energon. “I don’t want to ruin it.”   
  
“You won’t.” Sideswipe’s hands slid inward, cupping Sunstreaker’s neck and the bottom of his face. “Just follow my lead. We’ll be fine!” He smiled, and it was so earnest, so optimistic, that Sunstreaker wanted to believe him.   
  
He worked his intake and nodded. “Okay,” Sunstreaker said.   
  
Follow Sideswipe’s lead. Keep his mouth shut. He could do that.   
  
Couldn’t he?   
  
Their door beeped.   
  
Sunstreaker outright panicked.   
  
“Deep breaths, bro,” Sideswipe said, briefly pressing their forehelms together. “We got this.”   
  
He pecked Sunstreaker on the cheek and then let go, striding confidently toward the door. Sunstreaker told himself not to snatch at Sideswipe like some kind of terrified sparkling.   
  
He could do this. He was a frontliner, a fearsome warrior for the Autobots. Minibots trembled in his wake. Surely he could manage something as simple as… as a date.   
  
Sideswipe keyed the door open.   
  
Skyfire stood in the hallway, stooping a little to be seen. He had a smile on his face, he looked freshly waxed, and in one hand he was clutching a clump of wildflowers. Organic wildlowers. They looked very tiny in his hands, their long stems drooping sadly toward the floor.   
  
What the frag?   
  
Skyfire’s smile faltered. His mouth snapped shut.   
  
Sunstreaker realized, too late, that he’d exclaimed that aloud. His faceplate burned. He thought maybe he should say something but he had no words. He floundered. Oh, he hadn’t meant it like that!  
  
“Are those for us?” Sideswipe asked brightly, into the awkward silence. “Thanks!”   
  
“The Autobots as a whole seem fond of human customs so I thought these would be appropriate,” Skyfire said, his ducked helm making him appear smaller. He glanced at Sunstreaker, but then his gaze returned to Sideswipe. “I won’t be offended if you choose to discard them instead.”   
  
“No!” Sunstreaker all but shouted and lurched forward, snatching the bouquet from Sideswipe’s hands. Petals fluttered madly in his wake as he backed away from both his brother and the shuttle. “We’re keeping them.”   
  
They were _gifts_. Skyfire had brought them purely to be nice, to offer them to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, and he didn’t have to. At this point, he could have brought a bag of garbage and Sunstreaker wouldn’t have been offended.   
  
Okay. That stretched it a little. Garbage would not have been acceptable. But flowers most certainly were.   
  
Skyfire blinked. “Well, you are more than welcome to them then.”   
  
Sideswipe whirled and stared at Sunstreaker as though he’d grown another head. And maybe he was right.   
  
Sunstreaker felt out of sorts, and foolish. He spun on a heelstrut and went to his corner, where he kept his art supplies. He pulled out an old, solid-state energon cube for a vase and used a leftover bucket of paint water. It would work temporarily.   
  
He busied himself with arranging the flowers just so, that way he wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder and see the look on Skyfire’s face. He was probably asking himself what madness he’d gotten himself into. He probably tried to imagine ten different ways he could excuse himself.   
  
“Anyway,” Sideswipe said loudly, and Sunstreaker heard his pedes snap against the floor as he turned back toward Skyfire. “Thank you.”   
  
“You’re welcome.” Pistons hissed as Skyfire shifted his weight, probably to make himself smaller again. “I thought we might share energon atop the volcano.”   
  
They were on high alert right now, after all, Sunstreaker thought despairingly. He’d wanted to leave the Ark so no one could see them and taunt them. But now they were forced to stay close. All off-Ark activities had been suspended. Even Jazz had pouted. Apparently, there was some concert he would miss.   
  
“Sounds good,” Sideswipe chirped. Sunstreaker imagined he was offering one of those charming smiles of his.   
  
People liked Sideswipe’s smiles.   
  
“Sunny, are you coming?”   
  
He didn’t turn. He thought he’d made an idiot and a fool of himself already. He fiddled with the flowers instead, pretending he could turn their bent petals and crushed leaves into something beautiful again. The fragrance seeped into his nasal sensors, too sweet, too cloying.   
  
Even Sunstreaker wasn’t so stupid as to not recognize the gesture for what it was. What did Skyfire think they were? Soft mechs? Innocent ones?   
  
Sunstreaker didn’t dare ask. He didn’t dare speak. He couldn’t trust himself not to frag this up further. Better he not go at all.   
  
“Bro?”   
  
Sideswipe pulsed a query across the bond, and followed it up with encouragement.   
  
_I won’t go without you_.   
  
Oh, that was low. Sunstreaker didn’t want to frag this up. But if Sideswipe denied himself the chance because of Sunstreaker, he would never forgive himself.   
  
Sunstreaker whirled around and stormed past them both, his shoulder clipping Sideswipe’s in the process. “Let’s go,” he huffed as his armor drew tight, clamping close to his protoform.   
  
“Okay then,” Sideswipe said with a forced cheer, and followed Sunstreaker out.   
  
He paused long enough in the hallway to make sure they were both following before Sunstreaker continued on. He was here. But he was going to keep his fragging mouth shut from now on.   
  
“By the way, Skyfire, how are you today?” Sideswipe asked.   
  
Small talk. Ugh.   
  
“Fine, I suppose,” Skyfire said. He sounded confused. “I, uh, took the liberty of acquiring energon for all three of us already.”   
  
_Probably doesn’t want to be seen with us. Not that I can blame him_ , Sunstreaker muttered across their bond.   
  
_Hush._   
  
“Thank you, Skyfire,” Sideswipe said aloud, so bright he was a shining star in his own right. But that was Sideswipe. The special one. The smart one. The one who _deserved_. “That’ll save us on travel time.”  
  
“The rec was on my way. It was no trouble.”   
  
How in the Pit was Skyfire so nice? It was unreal. Anyone else in his position would have already called Sideswipe and Sunstreaker all kinds of rude names. Anyone else would have fragged off already. Mechs tended to want only one thing, not go through all this trouble as a prelude.   
  
“Next time it’ll be our turn then,” Sideswipe said.   
  
“Next time?” Skyfire repeated.   
  
Sunstreaker’s spark sank toward his tank. He didn’t know how to interpret Skyfire’s tone. Skyfire didn’t sound excited, but he didn’t sound displeased either. He should turn and look at Skyfire, but not like he’d be able to read the shuttle’s expression. That was what Sideswipe was supposed to do.   
  
“I mean, uh, if there is a next time,” Sideswipe said as he coughed his vents. “We wouldn’t want to assume or anything.”   
  
“Experience does suggest that is a bad idea,” Skyfire replied, his tone very mild, but his words cut to the spark.   
  
Sunstreaker cringed. His armor pressed so tight to his frame that his HUD sent alerts. Yes, that was all the reminder they needed. How much they were idiots. Mostly Sunstreaker, to be honest.   
  
“Right.” Sideswipe dragged out the glyphs. He poked Sunstreaker along the bond as if prodding him to contribute. “So… um...”   
  
Sunstreaker snarled internally. Keeping his mouth shut was the better course of action, though it seemed Sideswipe wasn’t doing that great either.   
  
“It was a joke,” Skyfire said, and Sunstreaker almost labeled his tone gentle. “I only meant to tease.”   
  
Sideswipe chuckled, but the slither of unease in their bond didn’t fade. “Oh, we know. It’s just we kinda still feel guilty and all.” Sunstreaker just knew his brother was rubbing the back of his neck. He always did that when he felt uncertain.   
  
Thank Primus there was the exit. Sunstreaker didn’t bolt for it, but it was a near thing. Could this “date” be any more awkward?   
  
It was pleasantly warm outside, a late afternoon in mid-fall, where the trees still carried some grasp of greenery, but turned to shades of red, orange, and yellow, too.   
  
Sunstreaker stopped outside the bay doors, waiting for Skyfire and Sideswipe both, not that they were far behind. He turned to face them, folding his arms across his chestplate.   
  
What had Skyfire said? He wanted to go to the top of the volcano?   
  
Wait.   
  
Sunstreaker blinked.   
  
“There aren’t any ramps or lifts,” he pointed out as his twin and Skyfire caught up with him.   
  
Skyfire blinked. “Yes?”   
  
“How are we going to get to the top?” Sunstreaker asked.   
  
Skyfire shifted his weight. His wings twitched behind him. “I assumed I would offer a lift.”   
  
“Isn’t it too soon for us to get inside you?” Sideswipe asked with a smirk.   
  
Skyfire’s optics widened.   
  
Sunstreaker growled and smacked his brother on the back of the helm. Even he knew that was tasteless and inappropriate.   
  
Sideswipe scowled and rubbed his helm. “Ow.”   
  
“If that is unappealing, I could always carry you,” Skyfire ventured. “Though I admit I am not as skilled as the Seekers in root-mode flight.”   
  
Sunstreaker rolled his shoulders. “I have some dignity,” he sniffed.   
  
“I… see,” Skyfire said.   
  
Sideswipe pinched Sunstreaker in the side. He hissed and glared at his twin. It didn’t hurt, but it was embarrassing.   
  
“The rear engines are unoccupied. Would that better suit?” Skyfire offered.   
  
“It’ll do,” Sideswipe said with a sour look at Sunstreaker.   
  
Sunstreaker bared his denta at his brother, his armor fluffing out away from his protoform. He was not going to be chastised like some kind of sparkling. It wasn’t his fault Skyfire forget they couldn’t fly, and it wasn’t his fault Sideswipe was being a jerk either.   
  
Skyfire coughed a ventilation.   
  
Both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked at him. He shifted his weight. He cycled his optics. His wings twitched.   
  
It was almost as though he wanted to remind them he was standing right there.   
  
Oh frag.   
  
They were on a date.   
  
Skyfire cocked his helm. “Are you both sure you want this?” he asked, his lips twitching for some reason.   
  
“Yes!” Sunstreaker blurted out, lurching forward. He could only imagine Skyfire storming away from them, his patience run out. He gave a panicked look to his brother. “Only...”   
  
“What exactly _this_ is we don’t know,” Sideswipe said, explaining what Sunstreaker couldn’t put into words.   
  
“Or understand,” Sunstreaker added.   
  
“It’s new,” Sideswipe sighed, and he moved closer to Sunstreaker, until their shoulders touched. It helped him stand a little straighter. “And we’ve fragged it up.”   
  
_Like I knew we would_ , Sunstreaker internally muttered.   
  
Skyfire stared at them. “I apologize, but I was under the impression you two were… ah, how shall I say… popular?”   
  
Sunstreaker looked at his brother who tilted his helm in encouragement. “Well, yeah if it’s a berth,” Sunstreaker answered.   
  
Sideswipe grinned and his smugness radiated from him in waves until it infected Sunstreaker, too. Yeah, he didn’t get social nonsense. But he was damn good in the berth and proud of it. No one ever walked away unsatisfied.   
  
Weak-kneed, comfortably sore, and exhausted, but never unsatisfied.   
  
“We’re good at what we do,” Sideswipe boasted.   
  
“Except the berth only goes so far...” Sunstreaker said, his pride quickly evaporating when he remembered how cold their berths got afterward. He could cuddle Sideswipe all he wanted, and he loved his brother more than life itself, but both of them admitted… something was missing.   
  
They didn’t know what that something was.   
  
Until Skyfire looked at them, and _forgave_ them and suddenly, their sparks couldn’t stop aching.   
  
“It’s not real,” Sideswipe supplied as Sunstreaker faltered on the rest and promptly forgot where he was going.   
  
Skyfire cycled his optics. “Oh.”   
  
Sunstreaker didn’t know how to interpret that. Was it a good sound? A bad one? Skyfire wasn’t running for the Ark like his aft were on fire, but he was keeping a safe distance.   
  
“I mean everybody wants to frag us,” Sideswipe said, babbling now, like maybe he floundered, too.   
  
“Fragging’s easy,” Sunstreaker said, because that much was true. Fragging was very easy. Knowing how to touch someone and make it hurt, meant you also knew how to make it feel very, very good.   
  
“You don’t gotta like someone to frag them,” Sideswipe added.   
  
Sunstreaker scowled. “Fragged Gears once even,” he muttered, and felt his face heat.   
  
That had been the first and last time. Because not even several good overloads could keep the minibot from being an absolute waste of time and space and energon.   
  
Sideswipe rubbed the back of his helm. “But fragging and dating aren’t the same. We’ve never dated anyone.”   
  
“Don’t know how,” Sunstreaker said.  
  
“I mean, we guess fragging’s all we’re good for,” Sideswipe said with a sigh. He spread his hands as though surrendering.   
  
Sunstreaker’s shoulder slumped. He glanced at Skyfire, and had to swallow down the urge to throw himself into alt-mode and race toward the horizon.   
  
Skyfire’s optics were wide, and Sunstreaker had no idea what expression on his face meant, it couldn’t be a good one.   
  
If Skyfire was interested before, he surely wasn’t now. No one wanted to go on a date with the rusty Ark bicycle, even if there were two of them. Mechs that were good for fragging, weren’t good for courting.   
  
Frag Ratchet for making them apologize.   
  
“Well,” Sunstreaker said, ready to get the humiliation over with. “Aren’t you going to say something?”   
  
Skyfire shifted his weight. His mouth opened.   
  
The proximity alarm went off with a wild shriek, startling the shuttle into a jump that would’ve cleared a minibot.   
  
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s offensive protocols went from zero to sixty in the space of a spark beat. A Decepticon attack was imminent. They didn’t have time to slowly cycle up.   
  
They never got to hear whatever it was Skyfire was going to say.   
  
Saved by the alarm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assumptions had always brought them nothing but trouble. And yet, Sideswipe had already constructed one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very late birthday present for Fuzipenguin!

Hours later, and Sunstreaker was still sulking.   
  
Sideswipe had hoped the battle would prove to be enough of a distraction. Frag, he could’ve used the distraction himself. But honestly, the Decepticon attack had been half-sparked at best. The poor slaggers looked exhausted, run down, and made of scrap.   
  
Megatron was starving them down there.   
  
Sideswipe could see the concern in Optimus’ optics. The pity. It hadn’t stopped him from beating Megatron until the warlord called for a retreat, already blaming Starscream for what was his own fault.   
  
Maybe it would help Megatron see reason, Sideswipe had caught Optimus murmur to Ironhide as they all trudged back toward base. They were muddy and annoyed, but in good spirits otherwise. Especially since the battle had resulted in nothing more than minor damage and some mild bewilderment.   
  
Minor damage except for Skyfire. Whom Starscream had seen, screeched at, and attacked as though personally offended Skyfire existed. Thank Primus for the Aerialbots, swooping in at Skyfire’s defense, and driving Starscream away.   
  
Skyfire was still in the medbay getting patched.   
  
Meanwhile, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were in the rec, sitting at the usual table, trying not to look as pathetic as they felt. Sunstreaker sulked, and continued to sulk, brooding over his cup of midgrade, while his armor sparkled and shone. He’d dragged Sideswipe into the washrack immediately after the battle because _mud_. Ugh.   
  
He was so damn weird sometimes.   
  
Sideswipe leaned back in his own chair, thoughts twirling. He had most of his attention on the door, watching for Skyfire, though he’d never admit how concerned he was. Starscream had been vicious, though from what Sideswipe had seen, the Aerialbots had prevented any damage beyond superficial.   
  
Still…  
  
Starscream had a mark on him now, as far as Sideswipe was concerned. It didn’t matter whatever twisted tangle of emotions existed in their past. Skyfire was _theirs_.   
  
“Would you stop staring at the door?” Sunstreaker muttered crossly and kicked Sideswipe’s leg beneath the table. “You look like a lovesick idiot.”   
  
Sideswipe rolled his optics. “No, I don’t.” He took a pointed sip of his energon and looked at his brother. “Besides, you’re the one obviously pouting. I’ve never seen Wheeljack scurry away from a table so fast. And he’s nice to everyone.”   
  
“I am not!” Sunstreaker reared up, indignant.   
  
Sideswipe’s optical ridges crawled upward. He took a noisy sip of his energon.   
  
Sunstreaker’s bottom lip poked out, though not for long. “I’m not,” he repeated and sank back into the booth, shoulders hunching.   
  
Their bond buzzed with disappointment. Blame, too. Sunstreaker thought he’d ruined it for the both of them, but honestly, Sideswipe was pretty sure it’d been ruined before Skyfire ever showed up at their door. They were who they were, and nothing could change that.   
  
Also, babbling out the kinds of truths that made mechs run away was probably something they shouldn’t have done on a first date that wasn’t. Sunstreaker wasn’t only to blame. Sideswipe was just as culpable.   
  
“You’re supposed to remind me,” Sunstreaker muttered with a slanted look at Sideswipe. “You should’ve stopped me.”   
  
Sideswipe leaned in, bumping shoulders with his brother. “It’s not your fault,” he said as he hooked his chin on Sunstreaker’s shoulder and ex-vented a burst of air over Sunstreaker’s audial.   
  
Sunstreaker shivered and cringed away from him, ticklish. “Still ruined it.”   
  
“Mm. That’s debatable.” Sideswipe ex-vented again, chuckling when Sunstreaker squirmed away. He pushed himself back upright. “Look, we’ll apologize for being such losers, and just kind of leave it at that. Okay? We should be getting pretty good at apologizing by now.”   
  
Sunstreaker snorted. “Speak for yourself.”   
  
A large frame filled the door of the rec. Sideswipe’s gaze was drawn toward it, and his spark did an unfair pitter-patter beat as Skyfire came into view, his paint scratched and static mesh slapped over his armor in at least three different places. Shallower gashes – caused by Starscream’s talons were visible in his plating, not enough to require a bandages, but injuries nonetheless. They would scar, if Skyfire didn’t care for them properly.   
  
Sideswipe liked scars.   
  
Beside him, Sunstreaker went stiff and suddenly, there was nothing more interesting to him than the cube of energon he cupped with both hands. The empty cube even.   
  
Skyfire moved slowly, as though he ached, and he probably did. Ratchet gave out pain chips liberally, but sometimes, they couldn’t do anything for the dull throb of nanites swarming over an injury.   
  
Skyfire made a beeline for the dispensary and drew himself a cube before he turned to survey the rec room. Sideswipe watched, without making it obvious he watched, and wondered if it was worth it to beckon Skyfire over. Maybe Skyfire didn’t want anything to do with them right now.   
  
Wheeljack noticed Skyfire. His indicators lit up in bright colors as he waved a hand to summon the shuttle over.   
  
Like called to like. Scientists could always babble to each other. Sideswipe fully expected Skyfire to take the invitation.   
  
Instead, Skyfire shook his head. He offered a tired smile and actually gestured toward Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s table in the corner. Sideswipe didn’t know who was more surprised: himself or Wheeljack.   
  
“Oh, Primus. He’s going to come over here,” Sunstreaker said, his voice pained. He shrank into himself, as though by making his frame smaller, Skyfire might forget he existed.   
  
“Well, he’s a nice mech,” Sideswipe said as Skyfire started heading their direction, though slowly and with a bit of a limp. “Maybe he wants to let us down gently.”   
  
_Escape_ filtered through their bond and Sideswipe shot Sunstreaker a glare. No, they weren’t going to get up and leave. They were warriors. If they could face down any of Megatron’s combiner teams, or deal with being tossed off a bucking Seeker mid-air, then they could certainly face the kind of gentle rejection mechs like Skyfire offered.   
  
Sunstreaker wanted to argue. Sideswipe could see it on his face. But by then, it was too late. Skyfire was within talking distance of their booth, and if they left now, it would be obvious they were trying to avoid him.   
  
“Hello,” Skyfire said, polite and genial. “May I join you?”   
  
“If you want,” Sunstreaker said, trying to be casual, but only managing a few shades below aggressive. It sounded more like a challenge.   
  
One Skyfire seemed to absorb in stride as he pulled out a chair, gave it a few pokes to see   
if it would sustain his bulk, and then lowered himself carefully into it. “Thank you,” he said, setting his cube onto the table and shifting around to get comfortable. “You both came away unscathed?”   
  
“For once,” Sideswipe said with a chuckle that he hoped was more confident than nervous.   
  
Given Skyfire’s half-amused look, he wasn’t sure he succeeded.   
  
“Ratchet was in a pleasant mood,” Skyfire said as he pulled a few packets from an arm compartment and sprinkled the contents into his cube.   
  
Nutrient additives, Sideswipe realized, and made a face of disgust. He didn’t know which was worse: being forced to consume medical grade, or being forced to add nutrient packets to regular energon. Both were disgusting.   
  
“He generally is, when the Autobots are largely uninjured,” Sideswipe replied. He leaned back in the booth, trying to effect an air of nonchalance.   
  
Skyfire’s lips curved in that soft smile that made Sideswipe’s spark flutter. And apparently Sunstreaker’s, as he’d started to squirm again.   
  
“I wager it’s also because he cares about you two,” Skyfire said, and took a delicate sip of his energon, only to make a face that barely disguised his disgust.   
  
Somehow, that made him intensely adorable. He was so polite, so friendly, for someone so large and imposing. Sometimes, Sideswipe had trouble reconciling that in his head. It made him wonder what was lurking in Skyfire’s spark, if he was that gentle on the outside.   
  
Sometimes, the nicest people were the real monsters.   
  
“Why didn’t you sit with Wheeljack?” Sunstreaker blurted out, and again, there was that hint of outraged aggression, that few people could recognize for the insecurity that it was.   
  
Sideswipe nearly facepalmed. He hissed at Sunstreaker instead. Primus’ sake! Have some tact! Not that, you know, Sunstreaker possessed any.   
  
“Because I wanted to sit with you,” Skyfire replied.   
  
Sip. Sip. His wings fluttered.   
  
He was so fragging _weird_.   
  
“Why?” Sunstreaker demanded, leaning forward now, his armor clamped tight, his fingers shaking.   
  
Sideswipe rested a hand on his shoulder, but Sunstreaker shook him off. He didn’t need to be restrained, damn it.   
  
All right then. Good to know.   
  
“What Sunstreaker here means is that we’re aware we did not make a very good first impression,” Sideswipe said, trying to ease the tension, though it occurred to him, there wasn’t any.   
  
At least, not from Skyfire at any rate. Meanwhile, Sunstreaker looked as if he was going to rattle right out of his armor, and that anxiety was spilling over into Sideswipe, too.   
  
“Or a second impression,” Sideswipe amended, and then laughed self-deprecatingly. “Or, I suppose, a third, too.”   
  
Sunstreaker rolled his optics. “We don’t have good impressions,” he said with a snort. “Only bad ones. As you’ve found out. So go on. Say it.”   
  
Skyfire tilted his head, looking genuinely puzzled. “Say what?”   
  
“What you came to say obviously,” Sunstreaker snapped, heedless of Sideswipe’s urgent hisses in his direction. “You don’t have to pretend and make small talk. Just get it over with and dump us already.”   
  
Skyfire’s orbital ridges drifted upward. “Dump you?”   
  
Sideswipe resisted the urge to clap a hand over his brother’s mouth. Yes, okay, the tension was making him itchy and ansty on the inside, too. But that was not the way to go about bringing it to an end.   
  
“Earth term,” Sideswipe clarified hastily, kicking Sunstreaker under the table loud enough for the clang to echo and Sunstreaker to glare at him. He’d probably left a scuff. “For rejection.”   
  
“Rejection,” Skyfire repeated and set his cube down the table, folding his hands in front of it. “I believe there has been something of a misunderstanding. I came here to apologize about our date going nowhere, not reject you.”   
  
Sideswipe stared. His engine stalled. Beside him, Sunstreaker made a choked noise.   
  
“Apologize,” Sideswipe echoed, his voice embarrassingly faint.   
  
Skyfire inclined his head. “Yes. I extended the invitation and though the battle was not my fault, I still wanted to offer my apologies. I’d also like to try again when we have an opportunity. That is, if you are still interested.”   
  
Sideswipe’s mouth moved, but his vocalizer did not seem to produce sound.   
  
“Are you serious?” Sunstreaker blurted out, again lurching forward, but the edge of the table clanged against his chestplate.   
  
Skyfire’s smile broadened, but there was no mockery in it. “Yes. Honestly, as far as first dates go, that was hardly the worst.” He reached for his energon once more, giving it a serene sip, the serenity ruined by the disgusted face he immediately made after.   
  
Sunstreaker’s gaze slid to Sideswipe’s, and he looked utterly lost. Sideswipe wondered if the same expression showed on his face, because once again, Skyfire’s behavior bucked the trend. It just didn’t make _sense_.   
  
“So...” Sideswipe trailed off, unsure what he was going to say or ask, only knowing he needed to do something before he and Sunstreaker came off as complete idiots. “What’s next then?”   
  
Skyfire’s field became palpable then, a warm and friendly thing that nudged against Sideswipe’s like the occasional lost insect in the Ark. “Next you tell me whether or not you’d like another date.”   
  
“We do!” Sunstreaker blurted out, and then his face flushed a horrible shade of pink. “I mean...” He growled and coughed into his hand. “Yes. We would.”   
  
He didn’t fool anyone. Least of all Skyfire.   
  
“Good.” Skyfire all but purred on them, and Primus did it tingle all the way down. Sideswipe felt his own face flush. “Then I suggest this rule. We make no assumptions about one another. We have a question, we ask it, but no longer do we assume. At least, not on purpose. Yes?”   
  
Assumptions, after all, had brought them nothing but trouble.   
  
Sunstreaker nodded. Though he nudged Sideswipe across the bond as if to demand he make a note of reminding Sunny from time to time.   
  
“Yeah.” Sideswipe said. “Sounds good.”   
  
Sunstreaker’s foot nudged his beneath the table. His pulse across the bond was almost youthful in its giddiness.   
  
Skyfire smiled and forced down the rest of his doctored midgrade, though this time he took it like a shuttle without so much as a grimace. “Primus, that is foul,” he said. His nasal ridge twitched.  
  
For some reason, one Sideswipe couldn’t give a name to, he found that ridiculously funny. He laughed, and heard Sunstreaker chuckling, too.   
  
It was all so…   
  
… normal, Sideswipe decided. Normal was the best word he could find here. Sitting together, talking, laughing as they refueled.   
  
It was perhaps the most normal he could remember feeling. And it had all begun out of a single, angry misunderstanding.   
  
Amazing.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd that's all folks. ^_^ I don't know if I'm going to continue this or not, won't make any promises, but if I do, it'll be in a sequel rather than an addition to this, so I can keep this rating reasonably safe. ;) Thanks for reading!


End file.
